


A Mistake on the Lake

by GrownUp90s



Category: Frasier (TV), Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: 2004, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26178946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrownUp90s/pseuds/GrownUp90s
Summary: As Frasier reconsiders the wisdom of following Charlotte to Chicago, a new job, an old boss, and a beautiful young woman add further complications.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	A Mistake on the Lake

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all.
> 
> I hadn't planned on writing a story like this, and I'm not sure I'll continue; but once I started writing, the words flowed effortlessly. If nothing else, this could cure my nasty bout of writer's block! Anyway, after binging on Frasier, I realized that the show ended in 2004, the same year I imagine Julie Gaffney graduating from college, so a crossover opportunity featuring two of my favorite '90s characters presented itself. I doubt this story will be a big draw, but I had fun writing the first chapter. If anyone's out there, let me know what you think!
> 
> -Matt

There it was – the Windy City.

Chicago’s skyline emerged from the waves of Lake Michigan like Poseidon’s kingdom, and formed a stark reminder to Frasier Crane that he was no longer in Seattle. Or Boston. He had no network of friends and family, and nobody knew his name apart from Charlotte Connor, the woman he followed across the country in pursuit of his soulmate.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” She asked over the roar of the wind.

“Yes, quite,” he bellowed in return.

Charlotte’s matchmaking business had taken off, and the only alone time with her that Frasier had managed to secure was at night – when she was too drained for any frivolity. Even this chartered sailboat was a business venture for her, as there were three other couples onboard, all of whom were matched by Frasier’s girlfriend.

Sensing his melancholy, she grasped his left arm while patting his right.

“Aww, I know it can’t compete with Seattle’s skyline, but it’s still pretty grand – you gotta admit.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What – Fraze, I can’t hear you!”

“I said, I – oh, never mind.”

He had heard so much about the relaxing power of sailing, even if the wind made conversation impossible.

 _Well,_ especially _if the wind made conversation impossible._

There was no easy way for him to share his doubts with Charlotte. All those years of psychiatry made him a ready listener, but the relentless march of time made sharing his own burdens increasingly difficult. Plenty of his fellow alumni at the Bryce Academy were already grandparents, guiding their adult children through the rigors of parenting. Even Niles, the one man who seemed even more hopeless than himself had settled into a beautiful relationship with his life partner.

 _Okay, that was petty,_ Frasier admitted to himself. “Say, Charlotte?”

“Yeah, Fraze?”

“What say we check out that martini bar – the one you suggest to your clients?”

“Hey, great idea!” She turned to the other couples. “How ‘bout we all hit up Vesper’s after this?”

The other couples roared their agreement, as Frasier expected. What little he knew about Chicagoans was that they loved their Bears, Bulls, and booze.

_No wonder Al Capone made such a killing here. HA! ‘Killing!’_

As he enjoyed his own wit, he felt a pat on his shoulder.

“That was a great idea, Frasier,” Charlotte offered. “Maybe we should get into business together.”

“No, no,” Frasier chuckled mirthlessly. “I’m getting back into private practice.”

“Oh, of course. How’s the office hunt going?”

“Very well. Too well, even. I’m spoiled for choice.”

“There’s a prime spot right down the hall from me.”

“Ah yes,” Frasier smiled. “That’s how we met. I better grab it before Brad Pitt swoops in.”

“Oh, Fraze,” she smacked him playfully.

_Maybe we’d actually see each other from time to time._

After turning down the gig in San Francisco, Frasier decided that he was done with show business – much as he enjoyed the perks of minor celebrity. He looked forward to returning to private practice, to diving in deep with returning patients and thrashing out their problems together. But another part of him dreaded putting down roots in Chicago.

What if this whole thing was a mistake? How could making it permanent possibly make it better?

As the boat came closer to shore, Charlotte took advantage of the improved reception to make a call on her cell, leaving Frasier alone to ruminate.

* * *

“This place is fancy,” Julie Gaffney observed.

“Nothing’s too fancy for you, gorgeous,” Dean Portman replied, guiding his girlfriend to a table at Vesper’s.

With its sharp angles, bright colors, dim lighting, and art deco style, Vesper’s was the perfect haunt for the trendy and youngish who had plenty of cash to spare. Julie felt distinctly out of place, but she appreciated Dean’s effort – and enjoyed the pedestal that he put her on.

“I’ll just get the drinks,” he offered. “Sit tight.”

As much as she hated to see him go, she loved watching it. Tall, dark and chiseled, Dean Portman had buns that could crush a walnut, not that he needed that ability for his job. His humble bouncer’s wage was another reason why Julie did not expect him to take her here. She felt compelled to pay for their drinks, but was only just scraping by herself.

Still, it was sweet of him to take her out. His nocturnal work hours meant that she saw precious little of him. He usually slept during the day, while she waited tables and hunted for a job that was worthy of her Northwestern education.

Her communications degree was a debt-laden albatross around her neck, but her four years in Evanston had given her the opportunity to reconnect with her Chicago-born high school sweetheart, so her pricey education hadn’t been a total bust.

“Here we are,” Dean set the martinis down on the table.

“Thanks,” she grasped the stem of her drink. “To making it work,” she toasted.

“Cheers,” he clinked his glass with hers.

“Jesus!” She choked. “How much did this gasoline cost?"

“Ha! It’s a Vesper, babe. James Bond’s favorite martini.”

“So that’s where they got the name for the bar.”

“This actually isn’t bad,” he took another sip. “Beats the hell out of those froo-froo drinks we serve at Maison Rouge.”

“Why don’t you take me there sometime?”

“Where _I work?”_

“What kinda girl doesn’t wanna see her guy throw some drunken lout onto the sidewalk?”

Dean chuckled. “My work involves more subtleties than that.”

“Sorry, Dean – I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know, babe. And just because my work _involves_ more subtleties than muscle, it doesn’t mean I’m not muscle ninety-five percent of the time.”

Julie giggled. “Just like Eden Hall, eh?”

“Those were the days.”

“They were. Everything made sense back then – even the shitty stuff.”

“Remember when that prick from Blake spiked Banksie and I put him through the glass?”

“Banksie or the prick?”

“Ha-ha. Banks and I were cool with each other, you know that.”

Julie shrugged. “I always got the sense that he was jealous of you.”

Dean shrugged back. “Not my fault he was too shy to ask you out. And plenty of girls threw themselves at him.”

“Including me, at one point.”

“And he was too retarded to pick up the signals. Or he was gay. What difference does it make, anyway?”

“Nothing. I just never got the sense that you two were close.”

“Hey, Ducks fly together, babe.”

“Ducks fly together,” she agreed.

As the young couple continued to reminisce, Connor – party of eight – walked in and made their way to the bar.

“I definitely see why you refer so many clients to this place,” Frasier said to Charlotte. _“Tres chic.”_

“I thought you’d like it. Why don’t you get us a table? I’ll get the drinks.”

Frasier arched an eyebrow. “Do you really think that’s wise?”

“Ha, now that you mention it, maybe you should do it."

Frasier loved the new cocktail craze that was sweeping over America. It combined the camaraderie of the bar with the pickiness and taste of a coffeehouse. He still loved a glass of sherry as much as the next man, but cocktails afforded a degree of specificity and customization that no wine could compete with.

“You all better go first,” he instructed Charlotte’s clients. “I’ll be a while.”

The other couples got their drinks and took their seats in good order while Frasier mulled over the perfect concoction.

“Sir?” Asked the mixologist.

“Just a minute, please.”

As Frasier continued to ponder, Dean Portman stood up.

“I better be getting ready for work,” he declared.

“Oh,” Julie stood up. “We better get going then.”

“Nah, stay a while, babe. You hardly touched your Vesper.”

“It’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Well, at least you won’t get hammered, then,” Dean snorted. “Besides, it wouldn’t hurt for you to meet some new people, make some new friends. Or you could sit around in the apartment and wait for me to fuck you. Up to you.”

Julie rolled her eyes at Dean’s affable bluntness. She knew him too well to be offended by it, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to find the humor in it.

He handed her the keys to his Camaro. “No sense in me driving when Maison Rouge is so close. Later, babe,” he gave her a light peck.

“See ya.”

She sat back down and scanned the room. The crowd was mostly in their late twenties and early thirties, but they might as well have been twenty years older.

 _Speaking of,_ Julie observed a few older couples, along with a somewhat older woman with blonde hair, milky skin, and a forlorn expression who sat alone. _She seems harmless enough,_ Julie decided.

She grabbed her nearly-full Vesper and made her way over to the lonely woman.

_How the hell are grownups supposed to make friends, anyway?_

But Julie managed to put her doubts aside and approach the table.

“Hi. My name’s Julie. Is this seat taken?”

The woman looked up, startled.

“Oh, sorry. My boyfriend should be here any minute. He’s just ordering our drinks.”

“Oh, alright then.”

“Ah, who am I kidding?” Charlotte asked. “He’ll be up there for ages. Sit down, take a load off.”

“Heh, thanks.”

“I’m Charlotte, by the way. Charlotte Connor,” she extended a hand, which Julie shook.

“Julie Gaffney.”

“So, what brings such an attractive young lady to Vesper’s all by herself?”

“Oh,” Julie blushed. “Just looking for a friend, I guess. All the friends I made in college are back home.”

“Oh, so you’re a student?”

“Nah, I graduated this past spring. Northwestern.”

“Impressive,” Charlotte nodded. “So I take it you’re from Chicago, then.”

“Bangor, Maine,” Julie corrected her.

“Isn’t that Stephen King’s hometown?”

“Yep. That’s how we’re able to tell if you’re not local – if you actually go and try to visit him.”

“Ha! That’s very good. You know Julie, I don’t mean to be indiscreet, but I’m a professional matchmaker – and you’re quite a catch. I’m sure I can find someone who…”

“Dear God, Charlotte,” Frasier exclaimed. “Do you _ever_ stop working?”

Julie looked up to see a distinguished-looking man carrying two martinis. He was older, balding, and just a little plump – but he had a strong chin and striking blue eyes.

“Sorry, Fraze,” Charlotte chortled. “Julie Gaffney, this is Dr. Frasier Crane. Frasier, this is Julie Gaffney.”

He set the martinis down on the table and gently grasped Julie’s outstretched hand.

“ _Enchanté,”_ he offered.

“Merci beaucoup.”

“Ah, parlais vous français?”

“Not really,” Julie confessed with a giggle. “I’m just running on the fumes of my memories from high school.”

“Ah,” Frasier chortled.

“So, Fraze, all that time up at the bar – what did you come up with?”

“The house drink,” Frasier sulked. “They call it the Vesper, hence the name of the bar.”

“They got the recipe from James Bond,” Julie pointed out.

“Yes, that was rather a cruel blow,” Frasier sighed, pulling up a chair. “And I thought I was being original.”

“I got one myself.”

“Oh, what do you think?”

“Oh – I uh, love it! Small confession, this is actually my second one.”

“Well,” Frasier beamed. “You’ve developed quite a palate, there.”

“And she went to Northwestern,” Charlotte added.

“Really? Such a fine university. What did you study?”

Before Julie could respond, Frasier’s cell went off.

“Oh, excuse me,” he got to his feet and extended his hand. “Julie, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she shook his hand before he left for a quiet corner.

“I take it that was your boyfriend?” Julie asked Charlotte.

“Oh, yes. Heh, all that time at the bar and he comes back with the house drink. Typical Fraze.”

“He seems pretty distinguished. And _that voice--_ I could listen to him read the phonebook and it’d be the best time I’ve had in months.”

Charlotte frowned. “Oh, you poor thing. Well, there’s no reason to stay single and bored. Here’s my card.”

“Oh, that’s really not necessary.”

“Now, now. There’s nothing wrong with seeking a little help in the dating department.”

“I mean, I already have a boyfriend.”

A look of horror flashed across Charlotte’s face. “Oh, I am _so sorry.”_

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it.”

“No, I was being pushy and presumptuous – let me make it up to you. How ‘bout another Vesper after you’ve finished the one you’ve got?”

“Oh...that’s _really_ not necessary.”

* * *

“Frasier, _daaaahling.”_

He winced at the falsely saccharine voice on the other end of the phone.

“Bebe,” he said politely. “I’m surprised to hear from you.”

“I would never let my favorite client go without a fight,” Bebe Glazer replied. “I thought you knew me better than that, Frasier.”

“Yes – well, be that as it may, I’m retired from show business.”

“Aaaah, still playing hard-to-get, are we?”

“Bebe, I don’t…”

“Sorry to interrupt, darling – but I’m just so excited! Though I must confess, your moving to Chicago struck me as a little desperate at first. I mean, why else would you go where Neptune Radio is headquartered if you weren’t interested in moving up to satellite?”

“Bebe, I...really? Neptune Radio is in Chicago? I had no idea.”

“No need to be coy, Frasier. I’m just grateful that you’re an amazing radio personality, and not an agent. I don’t think I could handle the competition!”

“Ah, well – you flatter me, but…”

“First you turn down the job in San Francisco, then they come back with more money and a TV spot. Then, you boldly move to Chicago and wait for Neptune to make the next move...and they did!”

“Well, that was a risk,” Frasier bluffed with a chuckle. “But I’m really not trying to strengthen my bargaining position. Radio was good to me, but that chapter of my life is over.”

“You haven’t even heard what Neptune’s offering you!”

“And I don’t need to. No amount of money can make me come crawling back.”

“Not even $20 million?”

“Yes, well...certainly nothing _under_ twenty million.”

“ _That’s_ my baby!” Bebe enthused. “You leave it with Mommy. I’ll be in touch when we’re ready to sign.”

Before he could offer any further protest, she hung up.

 _Damn that woman. God knows what poor, innocent creature was sacrificed to make_ this _happen._

He closed his phone and made his way back to Charlotte and Julie, who seemed to be hitting it off. Frasier could not deny that the younger woman was beautiful. With sandy blonde hair, emerald eyes, and lightly tanned skin, Julie was beautiful in such a natural way. Her smile when she laughed at Charlotte’s story was particularly captivating.

“Sorry about that, ladies,” he offered, sitting back down. “But I had to take that. Otherwise, Bebe Glazer would have flown here and caused the crops in flyover country to die while in transit.”

“That was Bebe who called? Charlotte looked startled. “I mean, that’s great if you want to get back into radio, but I thought you were done with that.”

“I did too. But Neptune made a very generous offer, far too generous to reject out of hand.”

“Neptune Radio?” Julie asked. “I applied for a job there, actually. Still waiting to hear back.”

“Really? Well, perhaps I could grease the skids for you, just a bit.”

Julie’s eyes widened. “You’d do that for me, really?”

“Well, what’s the harm?” Frasier shrugged. “It seems they want me badly enough to be amenable to my input. And I doubt that a Northwestern alumnus is a particularly hard sell.”

“I don’t know what to say...just...thank you. Thank you, Dr. Crane.”

He waved benevolently. “Think nothing of it, Julie.”

* * *

 _My God, this place is like an indoor summer camp_ , Frasier thought as he observed the young workers at Neptune Radio scurry about. _Julie will fit right in here._

That was the only thing that brought him here. He had promised the bright young lady a favor, and Frasier Crane prided himself on his promise-keeping. But in spite of his honorable intentions, thoughts of a fat, juicy contract still intruded into his mind. Sure, he would be putting down roots in Chicago if he took the radio job – but such roots would be far more lucrative than the kind he would be putting down in private practice.

“Frasier, _daaaaahling._ I’m so happy you made it!” Bebe opened her arms for a hug, which Frasier politely returned.

“Hello, Bebe. This is quite an operation they got here.”

“Satelite radio is the present _and_ the future. Not only will your earnings here make what you made at KACL look like lunch money, but your reach will be far wider too.”

“Well, I suppose it would be nice to help more callers, and from a wider area.”

“Precisely! This will enable you to do what you do best, and more people will be impacted. And to think you were about to slave away in anonymity.”

Frasier stroked his chin in thought.

“You know, Bebe – perhaps I’ve been looking at this the wrong way. My calling is to help people, after all. And radio _has_ enabled me to do that.”

“Of course it has! Now come on, let’s meet your old boss.”

“Excuse me, _old_ boss?”

“Just a tiny thing I may have neglected to mention.”

“Bebe?”

“Oh, Frasier – some of your best work was done under Kate Costas.”

His eyes widened.

“Well, don’t be alarmed, darling. I wasn’t being literal.”

“Oh, very funny.”

“Come along, now. She doesn’t bite, I promise!”

“You don’t know her as well as I do,” Frasier mumbled.

He followed Bebe over to the offices. After a torrid workplace affair with Frasier, Kate Costas had moved to Chicago to manage a radio station’s transition from country to talk. Apparently she had moved up a bit in the years since. Not that it surprised Frasier. The woman _did_ have six Golden Mics by the time she landed at KACL.

“Come in!” Came a familiar voice from the other side of a mahogany door.

As Frasier entered Kate’s spacious corner office, he suppressed a gasp. She hadn’t aged a day in the nine years since she left Seattle. Her raven-colored hair was as dark, and her olive skin was as smooth as he remembered. And those eyes. Those honey-brown eyes that managed to be strong, mischievous, and warm all at the same time.

“Dr. Crane,” Kate beamed as she stood up from behind her desk. “It’s been too long.”

“Oh,” Frasier chortled as he crossed the room. “Call me ‘Frasier’.”

He felt a current of electricity run up his arm as they shook hands. He could only hope that he wasn’t grinning like a complete idiot.

“Please,” Kate motioned to a chair. “Have a seat.”

After pleasantries and a brief game of catch-up, Kate and Frasier began to review the terms of his potential contract.

“Oh, there is just one more thing, Kate.”

“Oh?”

“There’s a young lady who applied to work here recently. Julie Gaffney. A bright, and talented young lady – she went to Northwestern. I’d be remiss if I failed to put in a good word for her.”

“Well, you obviously think highly of her. And I imagine you have good chemistry. Sure, if you want her to be your producer, it’s a deal.”

“Oh, that wasn’t really what I had in mind.”

Kate shrugged. “I’ll review her resume, then.”

Frasier did not like the sound of that. He pictured a mountainous stack of resumes and despaired at Julie’s chances of seeing the light of day. She certainly seemed capable and bright. And it’s not like he had anyone else lined up to take the job.

“What I meant, Kate, was that I didn’t think I could name my own producer just like that. _That_ is what I meant when I said that I didn’t really have that in mind.”

“Well, alright then,” Kate smiled. “She’s hired. But only if you sign on the dotted line.”

“My pleasure,” Frasier took the pen and signed with a flourish.


End file.
